Strippers In The Boardroom, Eh?
by BananaNutCrunch
Summary: Canada's stuck in what feels like an oven and decides to take off his clothes, but ends up making the boardroom even hotter. It must have been a fever. Lap-dancing and sort of citrus, but mostly crack, eh? Oneshot.


**Just so you know, this is complete CRACK written because a friend of mine told me to. Although now I'm not sure if she'll ever talk to me again for what I did to Canada. XD Hideously OOC Canada and quite a bit of stripping, and GASP, badly done lime! O: Well, anyway. If you like Canada as much as I do, then please do read. This is my first Hetalia fic :D I WON'T ACCEPT ANY OBJECTIONS!**

* * *

It must have been a fever.

Yes, Canada reasoned hazily, that had to be the reason that everyone else in the room seemed perfectly normal while he was positively _baking_.

He adjusted his collar tentatively, wanting badly to take off his tie but worried that Germany would yell at him. Force-feed him Vegemite, maybe. Not that that had ever happened, but better safe than sorry, right? He was at another world meeting, this time in Australia (Queensland, to be exact), and was regretting every minute of it.

It wasn't that he didn't like Australia, no; he was rather fond of the rambunctious nation, and Australian flora and fauna were fascinating. What bothered him was the fact that he seemed to be the only one in the entire boardroom who felt the oppressive heat.

That was partly his fault, of course. It was January. With this in mind, Canada had picked out an especially warm three-piece suit to wear in anticipation of the weather. Of course, what hadn't occurred to him was that this was_ Australia_, and the weather was pretty much backwards from the rest of the world. January meant summer. Three-piece suits were not for summer.

Thus, Canada suffered.

The other countries hadn't made the same mistake, though. Everyone was wearing considerably lighter outfits; with the exception of Russia, of course. Russia was _never_ seen without his scarf.

What made things worse was that he had come in slightly late, and although he hadn't been reprimanded for it (it was almost as if nobody even noticed, really), he'd ended up getting a seat in an odd corner of the room. The fans couldn't really reach him there, even though the air-conditioning was turned on. It didn't help that Canada was completely unused to the warmth and had trouble with weather at the best of times. He suffered.

"It's hot."

"I know, eh."

"Feed me something."

"I ran out of maple syrup yesterday."

"Who?"

"Canada, eh. I feed you."

"It's hot."

"I know."

Kumayoshi squirmed uncomfortably in Canada's lap. "Leggo, you're too warm." The bear released itself from Canada's grip and slid onto the floor. "I'm going somewhere cooler. With food. Maybe talk to a cute koala."

"Alright. Don't get lost, eh."

Canada smiled as Kumayama shuffled off on all fours. So cute. Canada wanted nothing more than to join the bear, go play somewhere maybe. And get a Coke. And maple syrup, if they had that in Australia. But, regrettably, he couldn't. He had a meeting to fall asleep in.

The unfortunate nation sighed softly and glanced at the glass of ice-cold water next to him. It wasn't his. It was Poland's. He didn't have one, because the waiter hadn't noticed him and had completely bypassed him when serving out the drinks. Again.

Canada inched his hand surreptitiously toward the glass. It was horrible manners to steal someone else's drink, but he was desperate. It just looked so god damned _inviting_.

"Yes!" he breathed softly, successfully wrapping his hand around Poland's drink without the other nation noticing. He started slowly pulling it towards himself.

"OH MY GOD, MY GLASS IS LIKE, TOTALLY MOVING BY ITSELF!"

Canada cursed quietly and withdrew his hand as the other nations attempted to subdue a horrified Poland. Figures. Things never went well for him. At least Poland hadn't noticed it was_ Canada_ trying to steal his drink instead of a poltergeist.

Wait a minute.

Nobody ever really noticed him, did they? No, they didn't. That meant... that meant he could take off his tie and nobody would even bat an eyelid!

Experimentally, Canada reached up and loosened his tie. When nobody turned, he took it off completely and set it on the table. The jacket was the next to go, followed by the vest, all folded neatly and placed in front of him. He looked around nervously to see if anyone had noticed him undressing.

Austria had the floor, and he was droning about his plan to make piano lessons mandatory for every child in his country. Germany sat opposite him, looking intently at his stopwatch to make sure Austria didn't go over the eight-minute time limit. He was doing a good job ignoring Italy, who was clinging to his arm and making odd "ve" noises.

Japan, on the other hand, seemed to be listening intently to Austria's plans, an expression of polite intelligence on his face. Then again, Canada suspected the man wasn't really paying attention, seeing as he looked like that _all_ the time. England seemed to be talking to someone Canada couldn't see, America wasn't even pretending to listen, and Korea was making paper airplanes and lobbing them at China. Nobody had noticed him.

...success!

Canada was pretty pleased with himself, but figured he could take it further. What else felt too warm? His feet, maybe. He toed his shoes off discreetly, then peeled his dark grey socks off as well. The tiles on the floor felt cool. It was soothing.

He extended both arms above his head, stretching his back with a satisfying "pop". He was still a bit stiff, though. Feeling adventurous, he stood up and did some more light stretching. There. That felt nice. Now, what else was missing?

Ah, but it was still a little warm. He wasn't quite comfortable, although he wasn't sweating anymore. He looked around, and noticed Greece dozing in his chair. There was a large fan directly behind him. Perfect.

Canada tiptoed across the room to where Greece was sitting, made sure nobody was watching, and then settled himself on the table. Carefully, he pushed Greece aside so he could get the fan, making the other nation flop over gently onto Japan's shoulder. Neither one of them moved. Canada assumed it was because it had happened before.

Loosening a few buttons, Canada enjoyed the breeze. Sometimes it was nice to be invisible.

"It's still hot. To hell with it, eh."

Canada, confident that he wouldn't be seen, removed his shirt the rest of the way and stretched lazily on the table. After a moment's consideration, his pants soon followed and were chucked off somewhere. There. He was at a world meeting in nothing but his underwear, and nobody even cared. Not even him.

It must have been a fever.

"I make myself sound like a stripper, eh," he grinned to himself, not that anyone heard. "But I guess that's not surprising, eh. I was raised by France, after all." Speaking of which, what was France doing? He seemed to be looking around the room, puzzled, obviously searching for something. Canada's grin widened. Perhaps France had sensed that somebody was naked in the room, but couldn't see whom. Nice.

Canada crawled across the table on all fours, imitating Kumabanana, making his way to France. He tweaked America's nose on the way, earning a wide-eyed expression in return. He laughed.

Reaching France, he settled himself in front of the man, feet resting on France's knees. France was looking right at him this time, although it was obvious he couldn't really see his former lackey. Canada reached out a finger and touched France's nose gently, making him raise an eyebrow in surprise. He chuckled and moved the finger, tracing along France's mouth, down his chin, along his jawline, down the side of his neck.

France was frowning now, grabbing at his neck in an attempt to stop whatever was tickling him. "You must be confused, eh," Canada chuckled, grabbing the older nation's ears.

"Mon dieu!"

"Shut up, Frogman. And why are you holding your ears like that?"

"Ah...no reason, Eyebrows. I felt a sudden itch, is all."

Canada snorted and lifted his foot, placing it on France's chest. He pushed gently, watching France attempt to keep his balance without being too obvious. England was watching him now with interest. Canada decided to change targets.

He slipped off the table lithely, slinking over to his brother's old man. An uncharacteristic smirk played on his lips. Oh, he was part French all right. And now he was going to show it.

He touched England's lips first, feather light so the other nation couldn't really tell if the touch was real or not. He moved his fingers down slowly, doing the same as he had done to France. This time, though, instead of stopping at England's neck, he continued his way down to run his fingers along the man's collarbone softly. The look on England's face was wonderful.

It must have been a fever.

Deciding to take it further, he placed both hands flat on the Englishman's chest and ran them gently against the skin, through the fabric of England's shirt. England was alarmed now, trying to stop whatever was caressing him so teasingly. Canada avoided his hands easily, brushing against England's nipples more than once tauntingly. He chuckled as the man gasped slightly and unconsciously leaned into the touch.

England was starting to get flustered now. Canada was knew he needed to stop soon though, before he caused any ...embarrassing problems for the other country (he was part French, but he wasn't France, dammit!). He withdrew his hands and ghosted his lips across England's cheek, drawing a soft sigh. That attracted a few odd looks. England coughed and went back to his papers, face still flushed. France frowned.

Canada stood up gleefully now, wondering who else to bother. Meetings had never been this much fun!

That stoic Germany would be a challenge. It would be interesting to watch him go red and flounder about and maybe get yelled at by Austria. Well, maybe not yelled at. He'd probably get a stern glance. But that was good enough.

This time, Canada settled himself in Germany's lap straight away, earning a grunt of surprise. He leaned forward and blew in his victim's ear softly. Germany grabbed said ear, alarmed, and tried to back away without being noticed by the other countries. Canada was having none of that, however, and promptly bit him. Germany grunted again.

"That's not a proper reaction, eh," Canada grumbled, noticing how the German set his jaw and refused to move. Canada bit harder on the man's ear, dragging his lips down his neck until he reached the jugular, and biting down again. Germany did nothing. Canada growled and drew back, starting to get impatient.

He shifted his hips slightly, dragging his weight across Germany's lap, trying to elicit a response. Germany, however, kept staring straight ahead, pointedly ignoring Canada's ministrations. The smaller man, beginning to get annoyed, reached out to unbutton the collar of Germany's shirt.

He forgot, however, that the man was a lot stronger than he, and went toppling over when Germany discreetly pushed him, apparently deciding that enough was enough. Banging his elbow against the table, a sharp, hollow knock reverberated around the room, causing the participants in the world meeting to look up questioningly. Germany did nothing, sitting in his seat as composed as ever. Only Canada saw the slight smirk on his face as the weight in his lap disappeared.

"Fine, eh, you win," Canada huffed, picking himself up off the floor and dusting himself off. Maybe next time. The meeting would be over in a bit, anyway, so there was no point in trying anymore.

Making his way to the middle of the room to locate his pants, Canada stopped as he felt a chilling presence. He turned to see Russia sitting somewhere in front of him, smiling as always. For a moment, Canada worried that he had been spotted, but Russia gave no response when Canada tentatively waved a hand in front of his face. Canada sighed with relief.

"Scared me, eh. Thought you saw me for a minute there." Canada tilted his head slightly, regarding the only nation bigger than he. He stepped forward, leaning over to inspect the man's face. "I always thought you were fat, but up close your face is kind of... pointy, eh. It's actually not bad."

Reaching out a finger, Canada touched Russia's forearm gently. He couldn't really feel anything through the thick material of his coat, so he tried prodding the older man's leg instead. He felt muscle. Interesting.

Canada looked at the clock on the wall. Fifteen minutes till the meeting was scheduled to end. That gave him some time. Settling himself on Russia's desk, he reached out and brushed his fingertips across the man's chin, then moved up to his lips. They were cold and chapped, despite looking normal enough. Canada frowned. Odd. Even in the blistering heat Russia remained cold to the touch.

He used his other hand too, ghosting it over Russia's features, careful not to prod too hard or Russia would get suspicious. He touched the grey scarf, gently pulled it slightly from Russia's throat so he could access that as well. He settled a hand on Russia's knee, very carefully running it up the man's leg and stopping when he reached the thigh. He stroked Russia's leg a few time, smiling to see Russia hadn't responded much. That was the plan, of course. Canada was invisible, but there was always the chance Russia would notice he was being touched and swing that awful lead pipe of his. Invisible or not, Canada would likely get hit, and he really didn't want that, thankyouverymuch.

"But if you can't see me, and if you can't feel me, then you're not so tough, eh?" Canada chuckled. Perhaps it was the heat getting to him, perhaps it was the thrill of doing something this dangerous, but he decided to take it as far as he could.

It must have been a fever.

He straddled the other nation's lap, standing over him so that Russia's face was just inches away from Canada's chest. He swung his hips slowly from side to side, humming a tune in his head.

Time passed and Canada was beginning to feel more adventurous. He started gyrating his hips more wildly, not paying much attention to Russia but not bothering to move away. He extended both arms above his head, hands intertwining, and thrust his hips forward. He brought his arms back down to play with his hair, brushing it away from his face with one hand and removing his glasses with the other. The glasses were tossed carelessly onto the table with a clatter, and that hand started its descent down his chest. Canada was really starting to enjoy himself, and wondered if this was what it felt like to be well and truly French. Or drunk.

He traced both hands along his chest now, down his torso to his stomach and back up, tracing patterns across smooth skin. Once in a while, he'd run a finger over his lips seductively, cupping his cheek almost innocently, swinging his hips all the while. More than once he brushed against his own nipples and shuddered in pleasure. Oh my, that felt _nice._

A trickle of sweat began to work its way down his temple, down the side of his face and down his throat, all the way down the curve of his chest and stomach before disappearing in the folds of his underwear. Canada followed it with a finger until he reached his boxers, then brought his finger back up to put it in his mouth. He licked lightly, nibbling at the sensitive tip before pulling it back out with a pop and swirling it around his navel idly.

He leant forward, bending to face Russia, who still hadn't moved a muscle. Deciding it still really was too hot, he reached down and hooked a thumb into the waistband of maple-leaf boxers, pulling teasingly and letting it snap back up. The other hand fingered the hem of Russia's scarf, tugging lightly so he could reach down to put the end in his mouth. He sucked lightly on the fabric, not caring that it felt weird to have cashmere in one's mouth, slowly tugging his underwear down until it hung low enough on his hips to cover the bare essentials while at the same time being completely obscene. He straightened up again, releasing the scarf, and turned around.

It must have been a fever.

He thrust his hips backwards this time, bringing his ass close to Russia's face. "Being a stripper is fun, eh," he grinned, shaking his ass around happily. He bent his knees, bringing himself down so he was almost sitting in Russia's lap, before slowly straightening back up, curving his body sensually in time to music only he could hear.

He stretched and swayed, thoroughly enjoying himself, pulling his boxers lower and lower, almost exposing his ass but not quite. "Quiet Canada, boring Canada, let's see who's boring now, eh," he muttered darkly, thrusting his hips back one last time for good measure. His fifteen minutes were up, and it was time to leave.

The other nations were standing up to go, dragging their chairs. England and France were muttering something to each other. Canada smiled. They must have been discussing the strange touches they had received during the meetings. Germany looked annoyed, Italy hanging onto his arm and asking why Germany had been twitching while Austria talked. Havoc wreaked by meek little Canada.

"Let's see what I can do the next time we have a meeting- EH?"

A pair of arms suddenly wrapped themselves around Canada's waist and pulled him forcefully down. Canada all but shrieked as a body pressed against him from behind, securing him in place so he couldn't bolt. He stiffened in fear at the breath on his neck. He heard a whisper.

"That was a very nice dance, da? You are a mischievous little boy." A pause, and a nibble on his earlobe. "Now you will become one with Russia."

Canada nearly passed out as he felt himself being lifted bodily onto the table and turned around, face-to-face with a smiling Russia.

"M-m-Maple..."

* * *

It was a good thing nobody noticed Canada's existence, or they would've heard the shrieks and moans coming from the World Meeting Room and figured out what he was up to. After all, hearing noises like that, it wasn't difficult to imagine lips and tongues and hands and searing touches. And that would really have been too much. As it was, people had to block out the quiet chuckles of "kolkolkol," floating eerily around Australia.

Oddly enough, though, although Canada could never bring himself to look Russia in the face after that, he found himself making more trips to Eastern Europe than a foreign country had any right to. Russia, on the other hand, had become even creepier than normal, and took to stalking Canada every opportunity he could. Not that Canada really minded.

It must have been a fever.


End file.
